Captain Ironshoes
by Lan
A pirate's life is not filled with glory like in those tales everypony hears in their youth. The gold and jewels are there, yes, but it's not as easy as the stories make it seem. I remember one lad that fell to madness the first time he took another pony's life. I don't even remember his name anymore, for that detail no longer concerns me. What good would remembering some young buck's name be when raiding a Royal Canterlot Airship?
Despite our dirigible being airborne, not every member of the crew was a pegasus. I, for one, have a nice grey horn sticking out the top of my head. A couple more were earth ponies, mostly given the jobs of cleaning the decks or arming the cannons. The captain, however, also an earth pony, always fought along-side the pegasi in his command, having one fly him in.
The greatest pirate ever, Captain Ironshoes, now long dead, was a pegasus, supposedly with a coat the same shade of red as blood. I think that's where my captain got his inspiration, looking up to Ironshoes. He could talk about Ironshoes 'till he collapsed dead from exhaustion. However, he could never be Ironshoes. No matter how hard he tried, my captain could never grow a pair of wings, for there was no magic that strong (or permanent enough), and no potion for the desired effect. My captain would never soar through the air, taking on the entire swathe of winged enemy pegasi like Ironshoes was fabled to have done.
Not everypony believed in Ironshoes, of course. Many believed him to just be a figment, created in legend. I believed, though, in a sense. The stories had to have come from somewhere. Most stories were based on real life events, facts. I believe that there may have been a Captain Ironshoes at some point in history, but I did not believe that he had done all the things told of him. Those may be fiction, or happened to different captains that history twisted into Ironshoes.
Our ship itself was a beauty. It was a wooden hemisphere that extended upwards at two points on opposite sides from each other, connecting to two hot-air balloons. Those would be our weak points were enemies to attack us, but we had covered them in metal plates, making them nigh impervious to melee attacks from pegasi, as well as reflective of unicorn magic, excluding telekinesis. It was my job to protect them at all costs. On our circular deck stood an array of mounted cannons, seven between the mountings for each balloon, and one inside.
Presently, the iron artillery guns BOOMed one after another, loud and painful. My ears felt like they would bleed from the percussion of shockwaves on eardrums. I almost lost my focus, the grey magical shield around the balloons flickering in return. Shaking my head I returned to my task as the first wave of pegasi ascended from our ship and into the air, shouting their expletive-filled battle cries.
I watched, the smell of gunpowder filling my nostrils, as the cannonballs penetrated the hull of a rival pirate's ship. They returned fire, of course, but our specially-designed aircraft proved a difficult target. From too far away, the cannonballs would bounce off our spherical hull, plummeting to the ground below. And taking the time to get close enough would give us the chance to fill their ship with even more gaping holes.
They kept their distance, firing cannonballs in vain at the hull of our ship. These were not smart ponies, too used to firing at the hull to take down an airship. Ours could only be taken down by destroying a hot-air balloon or firing at just the right angle to hit our deck with cannonballs. Theirs, however, was shaped idiotically like a sea-ship, with sails and all, the only difference being the inflated helium balloons on the belly of the vessel.
The pegasi reached the ship in no time at all. I espied one drop my captain, a brown stallion wearing a black captain's hat, down into the midst, picking out a yellow pegasus to fight. A grin spread over my face as I watched them fight, cutlass to cutlass. It was thrilling to see such excellent swordsponies clash to the death. They were both extremely skilled and strong, sparks shooting as their blades collided furiously.
I was not particularly skilled with my cutlass, strapped over one side of my back, nor did I particularly like the taste of the leather handle in my mouth. My captain disapproved of using magic to fight our enemies, saying that “If yer going ta kill somepony, ya'd better look 'em in the eye when ya do it.” And he practiced what he preached.
I watched in excitement as my captain knocked the yellow pegasus's sword right out of his mouth, leaving him wide open for a vicious killing stroke. He wasted no time, stabbing the yellow stallion in the chest, through the heart. I watched from a distance as the body fell to the side, lying on the deck with the cutlass still in him.
The battle did not last much longer. Our numbers far exceeded theirs, a good three-to-one, and we suffered few casualties. I watched Captain Brownside stand tall and proud over those he felled in combat as the pegasi connected the two ships in rope. Drifting slowly, the two dirigibles thumped upon contact, knocking me off-balance.
Brownside gave me a toothy, yellow grin when I drew near. In his thick accent, he called to me “There's mah favorite first mate! Git over here!” I did as he said, reaching him rather quickly. He seemed unusually exuberant after this (brief) battle. I had grown accustomed to the reek of death and rot that hung over the crew and barely even noticed it as I stepped closer to my captain, his coat a mix of natural brown and pegasus blood. “Job well done, lad! I saw one a' those cannonballs bounce righ' off one a' our balloons!” My magic had indeed done its job.
“Thank you, Captain,” I replied, wondering what he wanted of me and why he was so much happier than usual.
“Now then, I want you,” he began, jabbing at me with one hoof, “to use tha' magic a' yers ta set this Celestia-damned thing on fire when we sail away. A funeral pyre fer these sonsabitches.”
This was an odd request, mostly because we rarely set defeated ships on fire, but also because this was the first I had even been requested to do it magically. “But, Sir? Why not just throw a torch? Why am I required?” I was worried that he might get upset with me questioning him, but he did not seem to take the questions offensively in his ecstatic mood.
“Because I don' want just any ol' fire ta take this wreck down. I want it ta burn ta cinders before it touches ground.” Magical fire was indeed more powerful than regular fire, and I had no doubt it could burn the whole ship in the short amount of time required.
But something was still wrong about his order. “What's so special about this ship?”
“This is Yellowtoes's ship, the bastard.” He spat on the corpse lying beside us and placed one hoof on his fallen foe, his prize.
“Ohhh.” Now the request made sense. My captain had been taken prisoner in Yellowtoes's ship in his youth. From what I had heard from the crew, they had beaten him, flayed him, burned him, overworked him, underfed him, and done a number of other, unspeakable things to him. He had carried that grudge all his life. It was what had made him such a hardened warrior and criminal. His strange, almost cheerful behavior now made sense to me.
I looked down at the body he was proudly standing on. For the first time, I realized that the yellow pegasus wore a black captain's hat. Yellowtoes's body lay in a pool of blood of his own blood, the cutlass still in his heart, and a look of terror at realizing his mortality on his face.
My captain turned after a moment, shouting to a few of his crew, “Bring me the prisoners of this ship!”
A host of ponies jumped to obey his command, scurrying below decks to bring the prisoners to the surface. He returned his attention to me, starting, “Seeing as yer mah firs' mate, I feel like you should know mah reasons.” I only nodded lightly in agreement. “As you probably know, I was held prisoner 'ere.” I nodded again. “And you probably know wha' they did to me 'ere.” I could see him growing angry at the unpleasantness of the memory. I nodded once more. “What you don' know is tha' the worst a it was done by him.” He nearly spat the word out, kicking the dead pegasus with his hooves in the side.
“Oh.” was all I could manage.
A tear fell down my captain's face. “I can't tell tha crew. You can't tell tha crew. I can't seem weak in front a 'em.” I glanced around. They were all either looting the corpses of the dead or cleaning their blades. None noticed my captain's tear.
“I understand.”
I barely noticed the anger that flared in his eyes before he shouted, “No you don't! Nopony could understand!” I flinched back, startled, as he snapped at me. “You didn't go through it! He singled me out. Not one other prisoner had to endure even close to what I did!” I saw fresh tears cloud his eyes and slide down his brown muzzle. I stared a little while longer in shock as he cleared away the tears with a foreleg, trying to calm himself down before the others returned with the prisoners of the ship. I had the impression that a lot more had gone on in the fight between the two than what I had been able to see all the way from the ship.
I suddenly became aware that my mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut just as the ponies returned with the prisoners from below deck. The first two were obviously together, companions of some kind. Both their coats held a blue tint to them. The next was a white earth pony that wore a rich tuxedo, now tattered and torn. The last was a bulky, muscular stallion that strangely averted his gaze, like he didn't want to be seen.
My captain seemed to take notice of this too. “You,” he pointed a hoof to the last pony. “A strong one such as yerself shouldn't look so weak and timid.”
He seemed to take the hint, but did not raise his eyes from his hooves. “They took my belongings, family treasures. Now I don't know where they are.”
Captain Brownside never showed kindness to outsiders. He was always friendly with the crew, but he would easily kill a stranger if it meant survival. However, something about this ship was different in his mind. He saw the prisoners akin to himself, in a sense. They were not strangers in his eyes. “Go below an' git yer belongin's. You've got two hours ta find 'em.”
He turned to the tuxedo-wearing pony. “What good are you? How can you help me on my ship?”
A look of disgust glared at Brownside over the nose of the aristocrat. “I will not participate in the criminal activity of you filthy pirates. You will drop me off at the nearest port.”
“Oh will I now?” My captain grew amused and chuckled to himself.
“Yes.”
“An' jus' why would I do tha'?”
“There should be a reward out for my return. How's a thousand bits sound to you, pirate?”
“Heh, 't sounds mighty good indeed.” A thousand bits could go a long way, considering our cannons only cost a hundred.
Finally, he turned to the two blue earth ponies, who had been standing so close together I thought they might have been siamese twins. “And you two. What do you do?”
They began to whisper to each other, a murmur barely audible to me, although that might have been the hearing damage from the cannons I was just standing near moments ago. The one on the left began to speak in broken English. It was clearly not his first language. “We make grey. It make metal boom.”
My captain raised an eyebrow, about to ask again. I, however, asked a question first. “Do you mean that you make gunpowder?”
“That is it, yes.”
Delighted at the prospect of having an infinite supply of gunpowder, my captain couldn't hide his grin. “Excellent.” He turned to look at all three of the remaining prisoners. “Welcome aboard The Fallen Angel.”
I was left to wait for the last prisoner to return. When he finally did, he wore an extremely large brown saddlebag that stretched almost to the ground. Strangely, it did not look very full, and he still avoided eye contact. I did not question him, though, and lead him to the ship, where he readily promised to join our crew. Once more, I took notice of his odd behavior, as the enthused stallion seemed reluctant to take the cutlass presented to him, eying it with a hint of anguish.
My captain prompted to our newest recruit, “What should we call you?”
The curious stallion seemed to ponder this for a moment, but responded in a reasonable amount of time, “Heavyboots.” He was given a place firing cannons, like most other earth ponies on our ship.
We learned the names of the others, but I can't remember them. Never been very good with names. I couldn't tell you half the names of the crew aboard the ship. I happen to remember Heavyboots in particular because he interested me. He was hiding something. I knew it.
We feasted that night in celebration of Captain Brownside's greatest victory. The dining hall for our vessel was a large circular room. All the furniture was made of wood, from the tables to the chairs. Even the utensils and mugs were wooden. The entire crew had gathered and the riot was almost deafening. I was seated beside the captain in the spot reserved for the first mate. We sat on the far wall, where everypony in the crew was visible at once.
The chefs aboard cooked up a thousand dishes! Potatoes, carrots, corn, apples, squash, pumpkin, watermelon, apples! We also had barrels and barrels of rum. Unlike the nature of our lives, the stories were quite accurate on a pirate's love of rum. We drank and ate until long after the sun went down. Surely we must have used up all our supplies, but we would restock at port tomorrow, so it did not matter. All that mattered was the celebration.
Captain Brownside had drank enough to make him red in the face. He was singing (quite badly) in all the chanties with a drunken smile and laugh. I had never seen him in such a good mood in my entire career as a pirate. Clearly this victory meant a lot to him, but I didn't want him to drink himself under the table and get alcohol poisoning.
I leaned over as he took another swig from his wooden mug, the sharp pang alcohol wafting over to my nostrils though the air. “Sir, don't you think you've drunk enough? You don't want to pass out in front of the crew, do you?”
He finished the gulp and turned to me, his eyes slightly glazed. “Ah heard tha' Ironshoes once outdrank 'is entire crew individually ina drinkin' contest.” Thinking about his hero made his smile impossibly larger.
I recalled the supposed color of Ironshoes's coat. “Well, you're certainly startin' to look like Ironshoes. Look how red your face is.” But he could not see his face with the lack of mirrors in the dining hall and had to trust my word on it.
If anything, my comment only seemed to make him more determined to continue drinking. “Ah kin 'andle it,” he slurred, reaching for yet another mug.
With a sigh, I turned back to the food and took a hoofful of roasted carrots, seasoned with a number of spices I could hardly guess at.
The next day, we came into port where the rich pony said he lived. I was given the duty of escorting the stallion to land and collecting the reward, being the most educated and well-mannered pony on the ship. Dressed in the fanciest, least moth-eaten clothes we could find, I walked him down to the port and into the city of Fillydelphia.
My hooves felt strange on the cobblestone streets, accustomed to the wooden planks of our airship. What I was wearing didn't feel as comfortable as my normal attire, far starchier and more confining, not to mention how hot it was beginning to make me feel. Despite all that I was wearing, I still felt naked without my sword, even if I hardly used it.
At least I seem to be blending in, I thought to myself, eying the ponies also occupying the streets. Unlike me, however, they seemed perfectly content wearing their frilly clothing, not even sweating in the heat. I had to force myself to stop staring, to try to blend in as much as possible. Returning my gaze to the rich stallion, I followed close behind.
He lead me down only a couple streets and corners before he stopped. Unfortunately, I did not see him stop, too busy staring at the grandiose architecture of the buildings, probably Gothic, and I bumped into him.
He turned an arrogant nose up at me. “Ugh. I hope you didn't get anything on me. I know how filthy you pirates are, never bathing.” I just let him rant. It would serve no purpose in arguing with him.
He finally stopped berating me and resorted to only a rude stare. “Um,” I motioned toward the wrought iron gate. At this, he snorted and proceeded inside the grounds of his manor, the unoiled gate screaming as he opened it. His yard was enormous, but had not been cared for in many months. Weeds sprang up where there should have been flowers and the path to the house had begun to disappear behind tufts of grass.
The house itself looked gloomy, almost foreboding in nature. The windows had been smashed by local vandals and the paint had begun to peel. Several shingles had dislodged themselves and fallen to the ground.
“This is what happens when I leave,” he began to rant. “Lazy gardener can't be bothered. And where's the maid?!” He went on like this for the entire journey to the front door, criticizing every detail of his defiled home. I felt almost bad for him, except for the fact that I felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him.
Finally inside, “Whatever. You're here. I'll be taking my reward now.”
His attention taken away from the home, he hissed, “Fine, pirate. Wait here.” He left the room through a side door.
I turned to examine the décor in the main room, taking a seat to wait for his return. It very fancy, filled with the kind of items that I had only seen in my captain's quarters. He was obviously very wealthy, or powerful. The reward for his return would surely be great.
The crystal chandelier miraculously still hung from the ceiling, while several oil paintings had fallen from the walls, a couple punctured on the items they had landed on. I had expected everything to have been looted by whoever had vandalized the outside, but I guess they hadn't dared enter. But what reason could there possibly be for that? What was it about this stallion that would cause others to vandalize, but not dare enter, his home, for all those he had hired to abandon him the instant he disappeared?
“Oh no,” was all I could manage when the answer finally presented itself. Hanging over the mantel was a photograph of the stallion and many of his colleagues, all dressed in Royal Guard uniforms. Each one wore that navy blue and red suit, smiling wickedly at me through the glass frame, knowing that I was about to be captured. And there, in the very center of the frame, stood the stallion, in a Royal Captain of the Guard's suit.
Sprinting out the front door, I bolted to the iron gate and begun to swing it open, barely noticing the riotously loud squeal. Glancing down the street, I could feel my heart skip a beat when I caught sight of the mob of Royal Guard ponies marching down to my location. Unfortunately for me, they noticed me too and broke out into a full sprint, less than thirty yards away.
I don't even remember turning around, only that I did and that I too was galloping as fast as I could. With my legs slamming into the hard cobblestone streets, I could feel them start to go numb as I attempted to navigate my way back to the dock. Presently, I could hear the horde shouting at me from somewhere in my rear, wishing me death with every lashing of their tongues.
Though I couldn't see him, I knew the stallion I had escorted was amongst my pursuers when I heard the shout, “This is what you get, pirate!” A rock hit my flank, sending a spark of pain down my side, but I managed to keep running, my legs burning with the effort.
As I finally neared the ship, I saw that the captain had anticipated the trick and prepped the ship to leave port early. Thank Celestia for small favors. I jumped aboard, panting and sweating profusely, just as one of the crew began to light up the fire for the hot-air balloons. I collapsed onto the deck, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. It was like I couldn't breath enough. I was not used to running nearly that far, or that fast.
Unfortunately for us, the Royal Guard had their own airship nearby. I will never understand why all these ponies would use an aircraft that looked like a seacraft. Yet another ship that looked like in belonged in the ocean had ridiculously large helium balloons strapped to the underside. One good shot to those balloons would bring it down if the cloth wasn't enchanted to prevent ripping.
Fortunately for us, we had a good five minute head-start as the group pursuing us tried to crowd onto their tiny ship. Rising high into the air, I could feel the change in air pressure as my ears popped. The air thinned and I could feel myself getting even more light-headed than I already was.
Finally, the Royal Guard's airship ascended, the seaship looking ridiculous gliding through the air towards us. I turned my head, still lying on the ground, towards the captain, who was steering the ship, the magical rudders on the bottom of the vessel propelling us through the air.
Taking notice of me still lying on the ground, he shouted to me, “Git up! Protect tha balloons!” I did not respond, still out of breath, but merely stood up and focused my magic on the two armor-plated orbs. Not a moment too late, either. The first cannon had fired on the enemy ship, now hundreds of feet behind us, the boom barely audible from this distance. The extra magic required to keep the shield up after reflecting the giant metal bullet gave me a headache, but I held it nonetheless. Why did it hurt so much to keep it up?
Realization flew through my head and I called out, “Captain! They're using magical cannonballs! I think they've got targeting and might be explosive!” My theory was confirmed when the cannonball I had reflected exploded in mid-air a hundred feet below the ship.
This is gonna be rough. The thought barely managed to form in my head before the next cannonball flew through the air, attempting to strike the closest balloon. I dropped my magical protection for the balloon furthest away from them and focused solely on the first. I just hoped that from this distance, they wouldn't be able to see the magical aura around one but not the other.
Finally, all the ponies from below reached the deck and readied our cannons, heaving the iron spheres inside each. If their cannonballs are enchanted, what enchantments might the ship itself have? I thought as the first of our cannons returned fire. Another cannon reached our balloon and I strained to keep the force-field up, so focused that I didn't hear the boom from our first cannon as it went off.
The metal ball soared through the air and struck the enemy's wooden vessel with a dull clang. I couldn't stop myself from questioning the air, muttering under my breath, “What?” It was like the cannonball had struck a metal ship. But it was clearly made of wood.
Somepony called out the solution, “They've got a metallic enchantment on their ship!” That made more sense than my theory, that they painted their ship to look like wood.
I trotted over the the captain, intensely focused on keeping the ship under control, “I've never seen a Royal Guard ship with so many enchantments. Why –“
He cut me off, “I heard rumors tha' thuh Royal Guard was doublin', even triplin' the number of enchants they're usin', but I didn' think tha' they would be doing tha' for the nex' coupla months.”
“What could be so threatening as to warrant such an upgrade?”
My captain sighed. “Do you have any idea what Yellowtoes was doin' in our territory?”
“No,” I responded simply.
“He was fleein' from somethin' at the ends of the world. He wuz dabblin' in black magic. Or at leas', tha's what I heard.”
“What was he trying to do?”
“...” He stared forward, considering what to say. Finally, he gave me my answer. “Nopony knows, 'cept Yellowtoes's crew. An' they're all dead now.”
I could barely process his answer as I fought off another volley of cannonballs from piercing the balloon. The booming was not helping my focus either. Grinding my teeth, I staggered forward, beads of sweat pouring over my eyelids. I could feel their salty sting as I reached the stern, blinding me partially to the fight. I must have repelled over a hundred cannonballs, exploding in our wake. How many cannonballs could they possibly have?!
Quickly wiping the sweat from my brow, I continued, trying to find some weak point in the ship, some way to defeat it. The answer came, thank Celestia, when a cannon misfired and exploded on their own ship.
There was no time to ask my captain for permission; I was rapidly losing stamina from the waves upon waves of cannonballs. Why am I the only unicorn on the whole ship?! I knew this would be dangerous, but I had to do something.
The wave was ending. I grabbed several cannonballs in mid-air, dropping the magical shield over the balloon, and sent them flying back to the Royal Guard, a nice present for all the trouble they caused us. The first iron bullet missed. By a long shot. I had terrible aim under stress, but luckily the following three cannonballs all hit home, rupturing the hull in several fiery explosions. This time, however, it sounded like metal hitting wood. Something about the magical nature of the cannonballs bypassed the magical protection they had placed. Guess they never thought their own cannonballs would be used against them. Unicorns were rare on pirate ships.
My plan had worked, victory ours. Their ship swayed, then spun as if caught in a whirlpool before tipping over on end. It was dancing in the air, the ship's final dance. As if knowing this, and desiring to go out with a bang, a single cannon on the ship fired.
Absorbed with my victory, I had been cheering and turned around, facing away from the vessel at the time. I heard the boom from the cannon far too late. Then, the second boom as the ball struck the starboard side of our ship somewhere off to my right. Heart leaping into my mouth, I spun on my horseshoes to face the source of the shockwave that shook the ship beneath my hooves.
We had essentially gone into freefall over the ocean, but the still-intact balloon began to pull one side of the ship upwards. The ship itself began a sickening lurch to one side, slowly beginning to capsize. What wasn't mounted to the deck began to slide, pulled unsettlingly over the deck with an unseen hand. The crew began rushing for the hatch, to safety, most making it inside quickly. Though I sprinted to get there, the ship became presently too steep to move comfortably and I braced myself. Soon, even I could not keep myself still and began to slide over the wooden planks, my hooves dragging loudly.
I bit down on my tongue too hard to scream as I leapt, magically-assisted, through the air toward the hatch to the interior of our wooden ship, landing gracefully on what was now becoming the floor and had once been the wall. The taste of blood filled my mouth and I spat. Peering out through the threshold, I finally took notice of the screaming ponies that hadn't made it to the hatch. Several were clinging to the cannons. A couple more had attached to the mounting for the remaining balloon above my head. One last stallion clung to the wheel, but did not make a sound, probably out of fear, maybe out of pride, or both.
“HOLD ON!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, my mouth feeling weird with a swelling tongue. My grey horn pulsed and I could feel the magical aura swirling around it as I levitated the first brown earth pony close, not an easy task. He kept resisting and kicking as I pulled him in. “STOP THRASHING! You're making this even more difficult!”
But he didn't seem to comprehend and the yelling only made him struggle more. Bringing him to me lasted only seconds, but it felt much longer, an eternity. The last remaining balloon's pull slowed the ship down enough that I might have enough time to get the rest. If they didn't resist like the first one presently reaching the portal.
He yelped when his hooves finally touched the metal frame and he kicked forward off of it, then off of me as he scrambled down the hall. “You're welcome.” I grunted, picking myself up off the floor and turning back to the others. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking down. At the water that was coming up too fast. My ears popped again.
Revitalized with a sense of urgency, the haze vanished from my eyes as adrenalin pumped through my veins for the umpteenth time that day. My nerves were beginning to tingle from that chemical constantly rushing through me and the muscles in my body started to tremble. I picked up two more, who thankfully didn't fight me.
Three remained. Glancing down one more time, I realized that I didn't have enough time to save them all, for the ship would land in the water below in seconds and earth ponies are not known to be good swimmers. Finally, I realized that Heavyboots was one of the remaining three, clinging for dear life to one of the mounted iron cannons, which he had most likely been manning.
I had to save him first. The other two could wait. It was the mysterious stranger's behavior that made me want to know more, that lead to me needing to save him first. Magic pulsed over my skull one more time as I wrapped him in magic. I guess he didn't know what I was doing, as he only tightened his grip on the cannon, a multitude of obscenities spewing out of his mouth that I could barely hear from my distance. Time was running out and the foalish stallion would not let go. “STOP RESISTING,” I bellowed.
Too late. The ship slapped the water, suddenly coming to a very wet halt, the water spraying high into the air and the ship dipping deeply into the ocean. The ponies clinging to the cannons all lost their grips at the unexpected excess force and slipped into the water below, thrashing and drowning.
The ship began to rise out of the water, turning. It rotated back to about a forty-five degree angle to the water, pulled upward by the remaining balloon and sunk no further. From down the hall, I could hear the groans of all the ponies inside the hull who had just been thrown unexpectedly down to the floor-walls before flopping to the regular floor. I had braced myself telekinetically and managed to remain upright, returning to my task of retaining the lives of the ponies below me.
Not seeing Heavyboots immediately, I panicked and rushed to get the other two out of the water as quickly as I could manage. Despite the pain wracking my feeble body, I managed to concentrate enough to the first dying stallion out of the water. Placing him gingerly on the deck, I moved on to the next one as he coughed up seawater. The next body began to rise out of the water when the pain in my horn became too great and I dropped the spell, his chest slapping against the surface.
“Celestia damn it.” I loathed under my breath. I looked behind me, searching for somepony who could rescue the second pony, and, hopefully, Heavyboots. I was alone. A whole crew of ponies somewhere inside this boat and I was the only one who could help. At least I knew how to swim.
The water was still chilled from the night that had ended only a few hours ago. It stung at my skin, my muscles, my bones as I plunged into the murky depths below. The saltwater filled my mouth. It was a taste I was used to, having lived with the ocean ever since I could remember, but one that I never took an affinity for. Spitting, I gasped for air and began rhythmically flexing my legs, keeping myself afloat.
I swam over to the stallion, who had begun to sink, and dived for him, grabbing his mane in my teeth. When we returned to the surface, he began coughing, spitting up water like the first stallion. I flung him onto the deck and submerged myself once more. I cast an air bubble around my head, granting me more time underwater, as well as the ability to see more clearly while underneath the surface.
Despite the enhanced underwater vision, my vision was obscured in the lightless, esoteric emptiness that comprised the ocean. I searched in vain from my current depression beneath sealevel. I surfaced to resupply my oxygen and dove deeper. The water pressure constricted the globule around my head, creating a pop in my eardrums as I descended. That was happening a lot today.
Tentative, I carefully lit up my surroundings with a second spell, trying not to over-exert myself and lose focus again. Though the base of my horn stung like it was being stabbed with a circle of needles, I kept up the spell. At last, I saw an equine figure lazily drifting downward. Kicking my hind legs, I glided over and grabbed ahold of the figure, which I could now see was Heavyboots, with my free forelegs and kicked back to the surface.
The air had grown stale in my bubble and I gasped for a fresh breath when I broke the surface. Once Heavyboots was on the deck, I realized that I had been too late. He did not cough up water like the others. He did not breath. I checked his pulse, pressing my hoof against his neck. I felt nothing.
We spent the rest of the day fixing the ship and attending the funeral for our new, late recruit. It was at this point, nearing the end of the day, when we finally decided to clear out his bunk. Finally, his secret would be revealed. Oh, and what a secret it was!
We entered the sleeping quarters, our small group. Taking point as I was the most eager out of all of us to complete this “chore,” I proceeded without hesitation to the chest at the foot of the bunk where our recruit had slept. Nopony had ever seen him open it, as when Heavyboots had stowed away his possessions, none were in the room. Nopony had any idea what to expect, but most assumed it was just clothes or the like.
I levitated the key, which I had taken off Heavyboot's body, to the large chest and turned, a faint click as it unlocked. Dropping the key to the floor, I took a deep breath and opened the lid with my hoof. Inside were indeed clothes. But! Oh, but this was the best part. He also had a sword. Not the one we had granted him, but one that he had brought!
I first levitated the blade out of the wooden chest and unsheathed it in mid-air. Inspecting it under intense scrutiny, I found a faded inscription on the side, worn down from age. This sword was easily over a hundred years old! Turning the blade to orientate the letters properly, the inscription on the side read Ironshoes.
“What?” I whispered to myself, almost not believing the letters. But the letters were there. That was a fact. None of the others had seen them. I was the only one up to this point. I quickly sheathed the blade and rummaged through the rest of the chest. Underneath all the clothes was even more antiquated equipment and clothing. One of these articles was a faded black captain's hat, threadbare in some places.
“It can't be,” I whispered again, upturning the chest, now only filled with the newer possessions of the recruit. They all toppled to the floor. Then, so did a wooden plank. There was a false bottom to the chest! Underneath, the recruit had placed several documents, and the canvas of an oil painting, dulled from years out in the sunlight, but now stowed away in secret. The documents were all logs from the Dead Weight, the infamous ship fabled to have been captained by Ironshoes himself!
And there, on that oil canvas, in all its florid elegance, was depicted the famous captain himself! A blood-red pegasus wearing a full array of captain's gear, including a black captain's hat, identical to the one I had pulled out of the chest, stood framing the composition. His wings spread and one hoof raised as if about to stomp, he gave an air of power complemented by the intensity in his glare and the drawn sword in his mouth. My mind admired the quality of the artwork, but also wondered how long he had to stand like that for the artist to finish. It must have been quite tiring.
What an absurd thought! Here I was, standing with evidence that the most infamous pirate in history actually did exist, and all I could think of was that it must have been tiring for him to have this painting done! Finally, I returned my gaze to my fellow companions. I must have looked ridiculous, upending the chest like that. But when they saw the painting, I think they figured it out.
Thrusting some of the gear to the orange pony closest to me, I grabbed the rest, including the cutlass, for myself to carry. “Captain. Now.” I grunted, quickly maneuvering out of the room with the others in pursuit.
“Amazing.” The captain stood before us, examining the gear, paperwork, and weapon we had lain down on the wooden desk in his room. Not knowing what to expect, my heart beat rapidly with anticipation. He picked up the sword off the red leather cushion inlaid on the surface of his desk. Unsheathing it, he read the letters on the hilt, his mouth moving slightly as he read them individually, an astonished look of amazement crossing his muzzle.
“Simply amazing.” He turned his gaze up to us. “I KNEW 'e wuz real!” At that, my captain began to chuckle to himself. “The most amazin' pirate in history. And I 'ave 'is sword!” I heard a clatter as metal hit wood. I couldn't see it through his heavy wood desk, but I knew he had just unclasped his own sword, the most expensive out of any on the ship, from his back.
Slinging the straps in place, my captain fit the size perfectly. “Yes, I think this'll do.” Turning to the mirror on the wall to his right, he straightened his posture and took an air of dignity that I hadn't seen on him in a long time. “This'll do indeed.” Without turning his away from his own image, he addressed us, “Dismissed.”
It was not long before our airship had been completely repaired, returned to its state before our skirmish with the Royal Guard. And since we had never gotten our reward for helping the rich stallion, we had to pay for our repairs out of pocket. Thus, we would need more bits. I suggested to the captain to sell some of Ironshoes's stuff, as such antiquities of importance would fetch a high price, but he snapped at me, not even considering the option.
As such, we spent the day plotting our next heist. According to our sources, there would be a civilian airship carrying around 400,000 bits to a bank in Canterlot from Fillydelphia. Being a civilian airship, privately owned, it would not possess the magical enchantments the Royal Guard was now sporting. And such a large sum of bits would go a long way, keeping us well-supplied for at least the next six months.
Despite the benefits, it was unusually ambitious of my captain to take such a risk. Even though it would not be armed like the Royal Guard, it would still be well-protected. He was suddenly acting much braver than he really was, trying to be more like the stories of Ironshoes, who he now dressed as, wearing the antiquated armor we had found in the recruit's chest. I understand looking up to his idol, but if any of that equipment were to be damaged, irreplaceably so, he would be devastated and loathe himself for ever being so stupid as to wear it in battle.
I tried to tell him as much, but, once again, he dismissed it right out of hoof. His arrogance was beginning to bother me, but I would never say so to his face. We weren't invincible. Just because we had beaten the Royal Guard once didn't mean that we could do it every time, or even the similarly prepared civilian airships. Just because they weren't the Royal Guard didn't make them any less deadly.
Still, we approached the airship with our own, gliding through the perfectly clement weather. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly around the airy clouds. It came into view through the cloudcover. It was yet another seaship with giant helium balloons. What is this obsession with making it look like a damn boat?!
Their crew spotted us as we spotted them, directing their attention to preparing the cannons. We were already prepared, however, and the BOOMs of our cannons began to shatter the air. As usual, I prepared the force-field for our balloons, wrapping them in a magical glow.
As we neared, the pegasi on our ship took to to the skies, heading lethally to the civilian ship. They landed on it like insects preparing for their next meal, engaging the crew in combat. They were obviously never prepared for fighting like this and their numbers dwindled.
Still, some ponies, dressed in their clean, civilian garb, manned the cannons. One after another, they bounced off the sides of our craft. We had strategically placed ourselves higher up than them to make hitting our deck harder.
Presently, we drew to a range of less than fifty yards. Wincing as I deflected another cannonball from hitting the balloons, I watched a brown blur rush by me. It was the captain! He was galloping to the edge of the ship! He would fall!
I watched in horror as my captain jumped off the edge of our ship at a full gallop. He plummeted below the line of our deck. In a state of shock, I made my way as fast as I could to where he had departed. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I saw that he had made it to the other airship below us. He would have to have practically flown to have reached it like that! Or the wind would have to have blown him.
Never before had I seen the captain fight like that. He was always ruthless to the enemy, even when they didn't deserve it, like here, but this... this was just bloodthirsty. Clearly outmatched against him, they dropped like flies. But always in the most painful of ways. As he hacked them down, the deck of their ship turned a sickening red. So did he.
I didn't even bother continuing to protect the balloons. Soon, the entire ship had been cleared of its occupants. There my captain stood, soaked in blood, amongst the dead he had slain, barking orders at the crew.
He had changed. This Ironshoes stuff was changing him. He wanted to be his idol so much that he was willing to compromise his beliefs and his very character. Heck, he was starting to look like Ironshoes, his hair all red and wearing the apparel. It was beginning to look less aged and worn, as if the blood was rejuvenating the clothing and gear. But the layer of blood was probably just hiding all wear and tear on it.
We finally docked, the two ships touching as we threw a plank over to join them. I approached my captain, treading slowly through the thick coat of blood covering the wooden deck. “There you are,” he barked. “Get down there, and bring up some gold! Move it! We don't have all day.”
I froze. He had never spoken to me like that before. It was unexpected. And unnecessarily harsh. I stood there, my mouth hanging open, just staring at him, all red with blood and anger. What could possibly be causing him to be so ferocious? “Don't just stand there! MOVE IT!”
This time, I jumped immediately to his command, rushing down to the hull to bring back up the gold.
The rest of the day, my captain continued acting in an irrationally angry manner. His demeanor was getting to the crew, and at dinner, I noted many avoiding eye contact with each other and keeping generally silent. The entire hall ate quietly, the jovial air from the previous nights gone entirely. Some would whisper, but they generally stared at their food and thought to themselves.
As for the captain himself, he did not eat. He did not even show up in the dining hall. Even if he was mad at us for failing a heist or plunder, he always ate with us. I was beginning to feel ambivalent, both angry at and worried about the captain. Finishing my meal early, I proceeded to his quarters.
As I drew close, I could hear his mutterings from under the door, unintelligible. Upon knocking, the mutterings silenced and after a brief interval, I could hear him bark, “What?”
“Sir? May I enter?”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to ask you why you weren't at the dining hall tonight.”
“I'm busy.”
“But sir-”
“Did you not hear me? I'm busy.”
“But-”
“Busy!”
Sighing, I replied, “Yes sir.”
I proceeded to my room, the next door over. Beginning my usual nighttime routine, I stripped off my vesture and splashed my face with water from my basin. As I began to write in my logs, I heard the captain pacing in the adjacent room. As day gave way to night, I lit the candles in my room and continued to write in the flickering yellow glow that barely covered my desk. Still, while I wrote, I could hear his heavy hoofsteps growing ever louder. It began to pound away in my head, the only thing I could focus on, and I had to stop my writing. Placing my quill down, I began to stare at the wall, just listening.
When I heard his voice, no longer a mutter, curiosity finally drew me back to his door. I levitated one of my candles closer and lit my torch. Stepping into the dark hallway and levitating the torch behind me, I noted that there was no light coming out from the bottom of my captains door, that he was walking around his room in complete darkness. It sounded like worried pacing.
No, not pacing. It wasn't rhythmic enough. It was different, irregular. I put my ear up to the door. What could he be doing in there? Curiosity took hold of me once more and I gripped the cold metal handle, still levitating the torch behind me. At this touch, the sound of hooves on wood from inside the room stopped.
Turning the handle, I pushed the door open slowly, the creaking from unoiled hinges filling the empty air. From inside the darkness, I could see the outline of his figure, staring out the window on the far wall. Outside, the light of the full moon leaked in, barely letting me see inside the monotone environment. He must have known I was here, but did not turn to address me.
Squinting, I moved the torch into the room, finally illuminating everything in a flickering orange light, piercing the darkness. I gasped at what I saw.
Before me did not stand my captain. My captain was a brown earth pony. This was a blood red pegasus, wings and all. Before me stood Ironshoes.